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My Silence
My Silence
My Silence
My Silence
My Silence
My Silence
My Silence
My Silence
My Silence
My Silence
My Silence
My Silence
My Silence
My Silence
My Silence
My Silence
My Silence
My Silence
My Silence
My Silence
My Silence
My Silence
My Silence
My Silence
My Silence
My Silence
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My Silence

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R.K.Singh's maiden collection of poems first published by Poets Press India, Madras (Chennai) in 1985

R.K.Singh's maiden collection of poems first published by Poets Press India, Madras (Chennai) in 1985

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  • 1. R K SINGH MY SILENCE 1974 – 1984 1 She is the tree green and wide abundantly dressed overflowing spreading her sleeves blesses all in her cool shade solitude teems with breezy songs I feel nearer God 2 That autumn tree from this window looks like a young woman naked exciting birds to come kiss and play tomorrow when spring will return she will be too lovely to touch 3 I feel her hyaline influx
  • 2. in my deep love leaps from the soul with subtle glows her breath runs through my veins: this vassal of the flesh blushes as I drink the infinite in her 4 I clasp your hands and feel the blood running savagely through your arteries in tulip silence 5 Is it the perfume or your body that makes the night drunken? your lush lips ripple fire in beautiful silence your fragrance radiates flowers and water can I seek my voice in your breasts? 6 Blind I see her beauty deaf I hear her melody ignorant I partake of her knowledge poor I share her wealth in-drawn
  • 3. her vision reigns my heart yet the darkness of dust veils my being I don’t understand the hidden words though I sit under her tree of love she’s still away from me just one pace if I could take I enter the pavilion of eternity 7 The best poetry is a woman concrete, personal, delightful greater than all 8 What is this light without rays shining in your eyes? 9 She is declared a mental case her legs are shackled tight in the street she snails up and down naked without food she freezes in December near the drain curls up unnoticed by pavement dwellers building a bonfire of twigs, papers cast-off shoes and rags
  • 4. under the bridge sipping tea I hear the bell tolling at Rajghat pilgrims make haste to catch train 10 She stands between two parched trees like a sea of beauty and looks at passing fishermen in the afternoon her eyes are fish yet no one cares the riotous leaves drop down and rest before the flame cools she sees against the hilly ups and downs her broken bangles and hides a weeping rose in her white saree 11 The little heifer eats in landscape of violence lies on grass that is a grave wild beats and bulls surround who’ll hear her agony when gods are begotten from their sperms 12 To express sex a crowd is convenient in the bus during the Puja he rubs hard his cock against the ladies’ bottoms before turning wild gets down at Sabuj Samaj to search a new outlet in the Pandal Durga’s eyes are too hazed to see the dark desires of youth crowding in the name of religion puja, culture, and tradition --all a national wastage— while the cowards fear the coming closer of boys and girls in freedom
  • 5. the government deploys criminals actively pushing and pressing to keep the law and order, who bothers their rape and adultery in the crowd? 13 He hands coins just to look at the tanned fronts behind the little holes of her only saree perhaps the urge is to tear the wrap that hides the little thing but he’s too timid to uncoop his heart trapped in her sandal arcs 14 While I was petting and necking lying over her body she was calculating whether she could afford a new saree from what I would pay her tonight 15 Spring’s full youth he unbuttons her printed skirt on red cushion feels autumn dropping down the leaves of year at the centre incline like a twisted stem at the end wind dries up a few more prints
  • 6. 16 Squatted in sun she was cleaning white and yellow germs festering her womb still she thanked she was alive 17 She mysteriously conceals all her passions looking straight pretends she hasn’t seen me 18 In the forest of her body and steeps of her breasts is the highwayman I saw escaping the moon over stream last night 19 Each night in the island of my little bed I enter sensing sex like octopus squeeze her with all my fingers to bridge the gap between dream and vision set sail, and shipwrecked unfree the tensions in monsoony mist search door in the wall or gather diaspora of continents in a hidden landscape as a wild mystic explore
  • 7. her privates with handgun and land on fresh islands each night in my little bed 20 When I asked to open her secret she showed me thumb I thought she would return love for love 21 Looking like reality this life is nothing but show don’t fall in its traps 22 Sometimes in winter in the snow of your body there simmered a heat in a vivacious spring fell a sweet calamity as love began to jell don’t you remember my dream’s river stirred and the nemesis in summer? wedged between me and you was jinx that rains to remind of age and passion the growing jungles and the blues empaling warmth and vigour an end we always detest
  • 8. 23 The rising smoke is mysterious like woman: I see the shade of a snake 24 Like an autumn tree curving, leaning waving, drooping nude, mysterious bites into consciousness through dark odyssey her love-hate is the primal snake 25 Every sleeping guy gets up at the last kick of a waking tart 26 Melting chrysanthemum silent chromosomes restless energy stones in wood where is the release? 27 Swelled by humidity the mountain is a green cemetery hiding men and ages people may not believe in the valley everyone is walking I hear
  • 9. death echoing in tunnels dark or grey, black or green itching like a whore whose hand has clutched everything every song is a lament conspiring with rains, winter, summer autumn, storm, wind, sun, moon it’s hardened , cruel, a green stone nourishing the dirge we crown death 28 The limy layers on their faces and the fidgeting fingers in ashes not far from the kitchen yard they pick out the used up coal to burn against their poverty cook tomorrow’s food 29 I sweat my hours in the burrows dust cloud the still days roasting their calligraphy I burn in the deadly gorge what if the stains pursue I drink sulphur on the road 30 Banares seems holier at night mating dogs and bitches join pundits in the name of religion their meditation adds noise no one will admit I am no god if it doesn’t nettle
  • 10. the divine rest it kills my peace 31 The river flows through woods in Banares for centuries down this terrace washes ills and hides sins in her ripples reflects the eternity they love the myth of heaven and salvation each morning my father repeats celestial history while his son breaks off the golden bough and acts Rex Nemorensis without fighting the priest 32 Policemen roam about the roads at night goblins terrify the poor cart-driver with long claws rob the travelers detect in every man a thief or pickpocket arrest the innocent beat recklessly turn criminal in uniform enslave law and liberty while the watch-dogs sleep in two houses they hum around chewing tobacco 33 God alone knows what clay they are made of but I have seen travelling in Lucknow
  • 11. bus drivers are annoyed by conductors’ whim 34 There’s no penalty when dogs foul side-walks, parks and streets, but if a man pisses or spits in a corner they fine 100 pounds 35 They wanted to write slogans to transform their follies into autumn banners at the gate flutter between leaves scratching winter eruptions they monitor the dead woods and overlook what goes on right under their nose in the name of liberty take greater liberties to improve posture of their days 36 The consort of the Earth-Mother without buttocks our little primate weeping for others and never for himself kills with kindness his own children very few worshippers would realize whether he wears purple robes or golden sandals the vermillion-daubed god hides simia dei that mounts on a goat and carries an owl sucking the monkey with his antics of love and justice he plays
  • 12. the lamb, the lion, the pig, and the ape and proves his virility in the politics of monkey, cow, and snake 37 Because he was intelligent and his talent wrecked his life he wants his son to grow ignorant and stupid that he enjoys a quiet life by becoming a cabinet minister 38 They repeat the blunders out of ignorance or kindness to prove wisdom bureaucrats join hands with politicians and journalists who appear in mating season like dogs in 0ctober and November and perpetuate the blur around the hole to stand in the queue of decaying ancestors 39 The watery weather continues to shatter the mortal shell one by one washes the paints
  • 13. that hide the face 40 Shadows spring from night whispering darkness fog the streetlight and I walk alone against the wind unseen and unheard strangers glide into dreams mind creates lightless circles one after another longings spin their wheels outside me miracles blind faith inside drugged genes create human ghouls droning out psalms in tenebrous void my lulling spirit looks or Shamash to light the woodening house 41 Icy winds howl at the Ganges cold stars cover the winter sky at the alao they shed silence of agonies hiding hands in sleeves I walk my shadows circling back to the beginning now lost in the drain that was river 42 The works and days’ weariness prolong inside, turn out a smile rescind the stitches in the sky half-asleep hysterical night hoses down the gutters without fuss I collapse on the open-thighed creek and feel the whole city in the glen peel off the illusory flesh-warmth until the rosy-fingered dawn messes around
  • 14. 43 I wanted to touch a sun vanished before my hands became titan to reach the horizon 44 I see boats sinking and life bewitched by sufferings, here is M in both palms still I am no Picasso 45 The snake has slipped out leaving a dark paint over the ground shade lingers to remind the slant moon I held in dark 46 Draped in white the night embraces ripples down the terrace the course defies my gaze the moon falls into pieces down my son’s cheeks 47 Tonight the icy wind blows and a huge log (of an uprooted tree) barely smoulders to warm up the nameless children of footpaths I am born in freezing December and I know well what warmth means to a ferryman rowing across the river in the silence of twilight
  • 15. 48 Watching the waves up and down I stand like an island shielding chaos I hear the serenade and live my joy 49 There is altar and fire but what is this rite spirits tope and announce the burial of heaven? 50 Evening’s slow pace against leafless trees is within me a whale grows against dull sea stars fall mute dark fingers harpoon my name through tunnel night chimes shallow 51 The bones with curves kinks and hollow the true physicalness we love worm-eaten reality
  • 16. now floats on river’s breast wrapped in white moving toward emptiness 52 Waiting for the light to go out the night peeps in through the window and time passes poem by poem 53 The withered leaves blown away in autumn come again with the tired rains the season confers through the soft grey clouds the growing freshness on naked trees 54 Your vacant eyes reveal this city: dim, absent-minded, humid orchestrating bronchial noises by night ‘quakes in the face swash my deep peace in cells naked gods nudge borrowed girls with wealth uncreate their seeds for hurried happiness boats toss about on prostituting men and women
  • 17. 55 There is something in the air the tree tops announce but I walk in sleep candied ideas shine like light and the third day ends 56 Walking along the waterfront I’ve watched the dark waves with rope in thousand hands to bind the dragon my smoke-drenched spirit and black patches remind my eating yams raw and the dragon fleeting 57 It rises like a flame burns in silence straight, without wavering light in peace radiates love: I fish I in me the stream and ocean merge 58 The expanding rings of the sun cobweb my being and things all around cluster from dawn to dusk the myth repeats itself the leaping light from my depths is the halo round the paper-god’s head stirring the radiance and soul and all it’s the equation of live, die and be
  • 18. but the confounding solitude at this hour conspires to hallow its sombre sight my feelings mirror in the absolute of blind prayers and short visions 59 Death comes from the south like cool pleasant wind and cheats the guard with spear lest the heat burn the universe the mare is hidden in water and flames rise in flood what if my hair falls Shiva is planted deep and the serpent is eternal 60 There is no rest even after death body is cut open to detect the cause of death then burnt to ashes to crown formality 61 Rooted in twilight, dreaming pruning spring thoughts a partitioned façade this empty cell of time is me weaving heat in unholy solitude climbing rickety heights booze or castor oil sex to suspend creation
  • 19. 62 I dance the magic and ritual of the moon with darkness like rock on the island in me Uhuru stands like lingam pink mood turn violet 63 Love is to wash your hand before touching the penis in obeisance to lingam the climax of creation love is to gather molecules of happiness in flesh and merge in rapture to propitiate Shiva 64 The sangam of Ganga and Yamuna is a homosexual union charming but sterile my friend knows well the road to heaven doesn’t go through snaky waters 65 From the sea of days and years I gather white sand drifted on the beach in the shells waves bring I search my name like a timeless thought
  • 20. from first to last it remains revolving like the earth the sun in me rises and sets and I dance my silence on the ocean floor 66 I wake in the morning to the tiring screams then out of the bed and away from wife get lost in the sickening routine in Dhanbad the dark worries --no light, no water no sugar, no oil his notes and bickerings and tensions and allergies and threats and coercions and academic conspiracies— create nightmares between 6 and 10 the fears are real with curses on lips I fight with the devils desiring to procreate christians --fill the pits they dig all day or stamp on evils till evil ends— while others watch from behind the curtain maybe, laugh at my massacring the time or the sold-out dons despise my odd politics or opposite look at ISM they feed on snakes and shrink and shrivel everyday the self-waste and wars and cries reduce man to nought I see every moment they muck in mocks and my own shoes pinch when I walk 67 It is the same house the same alcove I shed my loneliness in reading prayers and psalms chanting mantras in fumes it is the same room
  • 21. the same cement rack crowded with earthen idols of Ganesh and Lakshmi worshipped last Diwali it is the same altar the same paper-Kali framed in glass and dusted with sindoor my wife puts each day it is the same floor the same four walls god watched us sweeping and purifying with dhoopam each evening before bed it is the same prayers the same pleasures we rejoice with impulse they savour with sacrilege our rituals of lust and labour it is the same incommunicado the same swearing by coal in the dark alley nothing had changed and nothing changes 68 In the eyes of my little son I saw Kali dancing that day without words moving flames built the cross I loved and his falling tears drove me to the little psalms I read long long ago he wanted me to go back to the yearning loneliness and cried: “Papa, dua, pray” perforced I closed my eyes to escape the thorns of stained hours but
  • 22. never knew he had reached the twilight ocean of love it was a strange white sun softly closing on me like an angel my son stood on his little legs by Christ and Mohammad, and Kali kissed us with her bloody lips and Shiva guided my way through silence homeward I returned a changed man 69 Move your oars faster, o boatman I must rush to the bank before the sun dies and search my son lost from the sacred precincts move your oars faster, o boatman I must catch the bird before it flees in the blue and I hear the dusk empty in monotone move your oars faster, o boatman I must reach my home before the snakes of the river shroud my bed and my being is questioned by the silence of the watery night 70 After burning heat of May I’d thought with rains will come God’s grace gentle like new grass but before little leaves from cracks of the walls smiled goats trampled the flower-beds and grazed away all our dreams
  • 23. 71 The little paper boats drift on the surface without concern the wind blows my little son plays unconcerned with the world of drifting waters we live in day and night 72 It’s utter helplessness true, but to survive one must be tamed 73 This moment visits the dark alleys of my body as a guest sleeps like my son in my lap 74 The waves in me rise like thousand-hooded snakes strike the shores: the rock stands undisturbed the shores don’t move the sea returns 75 There is a wave which never reached
  • 24. the shore: it only pushed the waves ahead and broke 76 I prune my thoughts to write well to be simply understood I don’t want to outwit my readers I am no celebrity but they don’t want me to grow like a tree spreading branches they appoint a gardener to prune my limits: my shades are uncomfortable 77 A poem elusive like a butterfly is the dynamics of a culture a process of exchange a cultural artifact fascinating stimulating reshaping reader and creator it incorporates multiplicity of modern man fluid, mobile multicultural manipulating matrix of tongues and patterns of languages
  • 25. into a stable whole of self awareness 78 Exploring its own limits the form manipulates relationship between consciousness and self-consciousness as in film flickering shadows turn traditional metaphors into contemporary realities (or, separate art from life in its quest for modernity) inviting audience to reflect across cultures and countries proffering society’s vision of itself for itself manifesting common humanity 79 What am I digging in the graveyard of memory? a handful of images to create a new myth? or some space to bury my being with orisons and burn every tomb? or seal the faint flame that used to burn within? the long darkness in the skull is twice terrible than life I can’t weave gaudy mess of dreams any more
  • 26. 80 A poet’s simplicity is misunderstood so I keep quiet but what if my silence is misunderstood?

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